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Field of Dreams: A Metaphor

This post is going to be super spoiler alert-y so if you haven’t seen this classic film yet, I suggest you do that first. I mean, the film has been out for 29 years, and if you haven’t seen it by now, Kevin Costner knows, he’s like Santa and Kevin Costner is not happy with you. Alright, you’ve been warned about both spoilers ahead and Kevin Costner’s disappointment, on we go with this journey.

This is basically a movie about ghosts and baseball and indulging in personal obsessions that no one else really cares about, but then kidnapping someone and making them care about said obsessions that probably somehow involve ghosts, and those are basically my favorite things in the world. Why wouldn’t this be one of my top 5 best movies ever?

It’s essentially an analogy of my current life, the field being the internet, I’m Ray Kinsella and I’m just sitting on the bleachers/couch watching ghosts play baseball and yelling about it to whoever will listen to me on the internet instead of contributing anything to my family. That’s an exaggeration actually, give me a break, I just sold a coin purse on etsy.

Here’s my question, how do I get my husband to agree to any of this? To indulge my figurative hopping in the car, driving 1000s of miles to kidnap people, throwing ghosts in the backseat to bring back to this field I mowed into my backyard so I can watch baseball games all day instead of harvest corn so they don’t take away my farm? There’s no way he would agree to that unless he’s hoping to get a two week vacation away from me. I’m going to work on my pitch, adding in the detail that the ghost I brought back into our home will save our child from choking on a hot-dog!

I’m not sure how that part of the movie actually worked though, is it like when Patrick Swayze pushed the penny up the door in Ghost? Is that how he pushed the hotdog out? And then once he saved the kid, where did Doc go? He couldn’t go back to ghostland once he stepped off the field. Oh god, does that mean he’s a zombie now? Roaming the streets of Iowa? What happened to Doc Moonlight Graham, Ray?? You didn’t ease his pain, you turned him into a zombie. This movie makes me cry at least 7 times per viewing anyway, but now I’m going to be crying about an old man zombie doctor that just wanted to play ghost ball with some pals, but now he’s stuck out in a field somewhere with that thing from Jeepers Creepers.

And if that weren’t enough dramatics, then you’ve got Darth Vader giving us the most satisfying monologue in history.

Ray. People will come, Ray. They’ll come to Iowa for reasons they can’t even fathom. They’ll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they’re doing it. They’ll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. “Of course, we won’t mind if you look around”, you’ll say, “It’s only $20 per person”. They’ll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they’ll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They’ll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they’ll watch the game and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and that could be again. Oh…people will come Ray. People will most definitely come.

And again, another spoiler alert, Terrence Mann gives this tear inducing speech that makes me cry even thinking about it, tells Ray he lied to him about something (I don’t remember what it is though because I’m always too busy crying at this part), and then goes and dies on everyone. And laughs when he does. Seriously. Here’s Shoeless Joe dragging James Earl Jones to his death in the cornfield, like some kind of dementor, and he laughs about it. Listen, if you think I’m going into a cornfield ever again, you’re nuts. Seriously. Don’t give into temptation. No good is going to come from going into a cornfield. You’re either running into Mel Gibson’s alien friend, some weird blond kids, or Jason. No matter which door you choose, it’s certain death. Especially if Henry Hill’s the one inviting you in and he’s smiling. It’s a scam.

You know what the biggest scam of this whole movie is though? The fakest part ever? No way they got THAT many people to show up to a PTA meeting.

And one lady wore her church pearls! Maybe I should class myself up a bit. I roll into our meetings in my sweatpants, feet up on a table as I daydream about staring into a field of make-believe and ghosts.